Belle Côte Bog
Nestled in the dense moss
Hanging by threads
In the squishy spongy bog
The ripe fruit
Coated in a
Purple misty fog
Turning bright
Cranberry red
From the warmth
Of my cold fingers
By the Wharf
I stand at the wharf
As the fishermen unload
They know their work
I stand amazed
As my young cousin deftly filets
A mackerel for me
Tossing the guts
Overboard
I know my own work
Back in the city
But it seems stale
As I smell the briny planks
And listen to the water
Lap against the boats
As gulls and terns call out
For their share of the catch
My cousin is a young man
But his hands are
Rough pitted and scarred
Aged by the biting salt
We share Acadian roots
Generations of hard slog
I tuck my cold smooth hands
into warm soft down pockets
– by Doreen LeBlanc
____________________
Doreen LeBlanc lives in Massachusetts and spends vacation time at her cabin in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, where she was born. Inspiration bubbles up out of the river and sea, streams down the mountain, and comes through family stories and the beauty of Cape Breton and her Acadian and Scottish heritage.
Copyright ©2008, by Doreen LeBlanc and Spinozablue. All Rights Reserved.
Proud cousin of the author … congratulations on capturing so much in so few words! Hoping your next oeuvre will be about music and dancing, since they are so much a part of Cape Breton life!
Way to go girl, I agree with your cousin, music and dancing are not only so much a part of Cape Breton life but life in general. There is a beat in all of us that we hear, feel and march to wether we admit it or not. Keep up the good work.
Wow, that moves me, and I’m from the left side of the coast!
You possess all of the gifts dear friend.
I’m thrilled that you took your first step toward publishing! Your poetry is captivating and I hope that you will move forward and publish a book of your wonderful work. (Of course I would love to be at the book signing!)
Love,
Gale